Bettie Sharpe’s Ember is a wry twist on the Cinderella story, one that turns upside down some of the most basic elements of the much-loved fairy tale.  Most of these twists are inventive and enjoyable, but some aspects of this telling—which is decidedly not for children—don’t work as well as they might.

The fun part is the author’s vision of her heroine’s family—the stepmother and stepsisters all get along with Ember—and Ember’s lack of powerlessness.  No fairy godmother needed here; Ember is a witch and fully capable of casting her own spells.  She can’t do everything—where would the story be if she could?—but she’s hardly the passive clinging vine type.  She does quite well for herself . . . until she sees the Prince.

The Prince, whose real name is Adrian Juste, is not naturally charming; his charm is due to a spell cast when he was a baby.  "May he be charming. May every eye find perfection in his face and form. May every man respect him and every woman desire him. May all who meet him love him and long to please him."  Ember tries to shield herself against this, with only partial success; she falls hard enough to be obsessed with the Prince but not hard enough that her relative indifference goes unnoticed . . . and it’s very much relative, especially as the rest of her household seems to be in better control than she is most of the time.  Here’s where the trouble really starts, not just because witchcraft is illegal, and not just for Ember but for her story as well.

Sharpe’s concept of "charm" as regards the Prince’s effect on women seems to be limited to sexual desire.  No little old ladies want to mother him and knit him nice warm socks.  And I doubt you could find a well-meaning middle-aged one who hopes he will marry her daughter.  If Ember really does have a remarkably mild case, it’s surprising the female population is still allowed—or able—to walk about on the loose, so to speak.  The sexual frenzy which is her initial response to him is apparently meant to be funny, but it’s so overblown and tasteless I couldn’t help cringing as I read it.  A certain amount of comic crudity can be very effective—the wonderful Portnoy’s Complaint comes to mind—but it has to be done well and it has to serve a larger story.  Apparently the previous reviewers have no complaints about this aspect of the story, but it didn’t work for me.

What’s worse, there’s also not much more than sex to Ember’s romance, once she finally has one.  We are told why she likes him and why he likes her, but there are a lot of things couples generally do together and say to each other that don’t involve getting naked, and these two don’t seem to have a great deal of use for any of them.  We don’t see much of an emotional bond here.  We do see plenty of sex, but unfortunately it’s the pornographic kind: breathlessly detailed descriptions of various activities and physiological responses.  And, of course, naughty words.  Lots of naughty words, and not just in the sex scenes.  I’m not sure whether they’re meant to be titillating or raw and realistic; there are so many they seem more like a reflex.

This is a pity, especially since Sharpe’s writing style is otherwise happily lacking in amateurish embarrassments and clumsiness.  There’s an imagination here, and an attention to detail—including details that matter.

She was pretty enough beneath her mask of powder and paint and the black beauty patch in the shape of a swallow affixed above the corner of her cherry-red mouth. But hers was the brittle sort of beauty that came of constant care and vigilance. Hiding from the sun kept her smooth skin unmarred by lines or freckles. She’d gained her high, elegant eyebrows through pulling each unwanted hair out from the root. Her slender form bespoke a lifetime of half-eaten meals.

There is more to Ember than sex.  And if the sex in Ember sounded a bit more like the excerpt above, there would be more to it still. Perhaps the premise of the story is to blame.  Perhaps Sharpe was in a bit of a hurry, and found sex scenes to be quick, easy filler.  I may have a look at something else by the same author.

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